


Graceless Heart

by becsti



Category: Supernatural, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becsti/pseuds/becsti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the PWKM: The Gavin brothers are actually angels in human vessels; when they fell, Kristoph ripped out Klavier's grace, but kept his own. He knows who they are, but Klavier does not. That is, until this socially stunted man-child in a trench-coat and hideous blue beanie shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover of Ace Attorney and Supernatural - the characters are a meshing of two from each fandom. That said, their personality traits will be more similar to that of AA.

Klavier stared, unseeing, out the window onto the street below, absentmindedly strumming the strings of his guitar. The buzzing noise was back. Ever since ‘the accident’, his ears and mind would randomly be filled with this strange buzzing sensation. It was almost like listening to a conversation underwater, not quite hearing what was being said.

 

And Klavier _knew_ that the buzzing was saying something, maybe not to him personally, but it was more than simply white noise. He knew this, honestly he did. He knew if only on a subconscious level.

 

How? He could _feel_ the buzzing as well, not with his fingers but with his mind, his heart. Some days the buzzing was joyous – don’t ask him how he knew it, he just _did_. His mood would brighten instantly; there was nothing life couldn’t throw at him that would lessen his smile. Other days, the buzzing was sad. A deep melancholy would pervade his very core; no matter what he or his brother did, nothing could cheer him up. On rare days, the buzzing was calm, tranquil. It left him in an almost-trance; his breathing would slow and every muscle in his body would relax. The buzzing was like the sound of crashing waves washing over him.

 

Today was one of those days. They were the best for writing music, he had found, the words and notes easily flowing from his mind to pen and paper.

 

His brother, Kristoph, had told him that before ‘the accident’, he’d been a very talented musician. Many were left in awe at his abilities; people travelled across the country just to hear him. Or so his brother told him. Klavier didn’t remember anything about his wonderful musical career; in fact he didn’t remember _anything at all_ , not since his accident.

 

He’d been in a car accident, Kristoph had said, a hit and run. Left in a coma for two months, he had awoken with a serious case of amnesia. He remembered nothing of his past life, not his music, not his brother, not even his own name. It had taken him a very long time to adjust to his new life and after had come the buzzing noise.

 

At first it had driven him crazy, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t think. The doctors said that it was a residual effect of the head trauma he’d experienced, that it would disappear in time. They’d given him sleeping pills to help him on restless nights. They had not worked.

 

But after a while, he began to sense changes to the buzzing and made connections between them and his mood swings. And then it annoyed him. He knew there was something to be learnt from the mysterious noise, but he just couldn’t _understand_.

 

He’d asked Kristoph for help once, but his brother had only regarded him with a look of confusion mixed with pity. _I think that accident affected more than just your memory, dear brother,_ he’d remarked wryly. That had been the end of the conversation. It’d made Klavier feel like a fool, but the buzzing continued and he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was right.

 

In the end, he gave up trying to comprehend the buzzing in his head. Instead, he just let it be, revelling in the joy and peace, enduring the sadness.

 

And life went on like this: Klavier stayed at home, resting, acclimatising to his amnesic state and Kristoph worked in his law firm, defending the innocent.

 

But this would all change with the appearance of a man in a trench coat and hideous blue beanie. 


	2. Chapter 2

_The warehouse was located on the outskirts of town just off the highway. By the looks of it, it had been abandoned long ago and quickly forgotten. Almost every window was broken and the roof had collapsed in many places, yet they could not enter. Every door was marked with a sigil drawn in blood: a circle surrounded by a number of ancient Enochian letters. There were others as well, invisible to the human eye, but there all the same. They glowed faintly in the morning light._

_“It’s no good,” someone said off to the side. The voice was muffled, as if it were speaking through a wall. “There’s no way in.” Turning to look at the speaker, all that could be seen was a brilliant white light, shining in the place where a human body should have been. It was blinding, burning and soon the warehouse began to twist and bulge, its greys and browns and blacks blurring together until the whole picture was incomprehensible._

_Then it all turned intensely white, the only thing left the blood sigil, pulsing for a few moments before everything went black._

 

\------

 

Klavier frowned from his position in the passenger seat of the car. It was the first time Kristoph had let him out of the house since their last medical visit. He rubbed his temples wearily; the buzzing noise was back, more intense than it had ever been before. Klavier had grown used to the constant sound, even enjoyed it at times, but now it felt like he’d been bashing his head against the wall for hours. Something had changed.

 

Kristoph didn’t seem to notice his distress, happily humming to the song currently being played on the radio. Klavier wondered if he’d ever let him listen to his own music for once; he highly doubted it. They’d had that conversation months ago, when Klavier was still trying to actively regain his memory. Kristoph had vehemently denied him the opportunity and Klavier hadn’t asked since.

 

He pursed his lips, considering channel surfing. _Maybe I’ll instantly recognise my music if I hear it._ As he went to turn the dial, his brother stopped the car suddenly and shifted it into park.

 

“We’re here, brother,” Kristoph announced, undoing his seatbelt. “Is something the matter?” he asked after he realised Klavier was not going to answer.

 

“It’s nothing, Kristoph, just a little headache,” he replied, waving away his brother’s concern. Kristoph didn’t look convinced, but he let it go; Klavier had been acting strange all morning.

 

He’d dreamt that odd dream again last night, the one with the derelict warehouse and blinding light. Every night for the past week he’d dreamt it, but never had the buzzing been so painful afterwards. He could sense a change in the noise, but since he’d given up trying to decipher its meaning months ago, he was at a loss to what it might mean.

 

He walked alongside his brother down the footpath, trying to distract himself from his headache by concentrating on the way the morning sun warmed his skin.

 

Kristoph was blathering away – something about finding a special kind of oil. Klavier did not know him to be an avid cook in his time post-amnesia, but his brother had the most peculiar interests.

 

Kristoph stopped abruptly in front of a shop decorated with an array of weird symbols and pictures. Inside, the store was cluttered with old books in ancient languages, necklaces and bracelets with menacing looking charms and small cloth bags full of herbs, stones and twigs.

 

Behind the counter, an old lady with very long white hair and a deep purple tunic greeted them. Klavier tuned out her wiry voice and opted to look around the room some more. On the wall and ceiling behind the counter, strange and familiar symbols were haphazardly painted on. Klavier recognised the cross and fish from Christianity, the Jewish star and a number of Asian characters. There were many other symbols up there as well: moons, flowers, spears and scales.

 

Kristoph called out to him, shaking him from his reverie; he’d come away empty handed. Just what had his brother come here for anyway? _Peculiar interests indeed._

 

As they stepped out of the store, the glare from the sun blinded them momentarily. And then the buzzing intensified even more.

 

He groaned in pain, bending over and holding his head in his hands. Kristoph had come to his side immediately, but the throbbing in his head made it hard for him to register anything outside his own body. Somehow he’d ended up in Kristoph’s car, seat belted to the chair. His brother said he was going to the pharmacy to get something stronger to ease the pain, or at least that’s what Klavier thought he said. The buzzing had made it almost impossible to hear anything else.

 

He could almost feel his brain pulsing in his hands in time with the buzzing. And as soon as it had started it stopped. Klavier sighed loudly and reclined back in the seat, closing his eyes in relief.

 

Silence. His head was still throbbing, though the pain had diminished greatly. Slowly, the sounds of the outside world came flooding back to him: cars driving past, children laughing, dogs yapping. Everything was peaceful once more.

 

Klavier opened his eyes and took a look around at the street before him. It was a Saturday; so many young families were out and about enjoying the sunshine. A few metres down the sidewalk, a little girl was struggling to walk her dog as she tried to eat her rapidly melting ice cream.

 

He smiled ruefully at the sight. With no memory before the last half year, Klavier felt like an outsider in this sleepy little town. To be honest, he didn’t even know if this was where he had lived before the accident anyway.

 

Whilst he was musing, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, like when you have the feeling your being watched. Klavier scanned the footpath, but didn’t see anyone looking back at him. However the strange sensation wouldn’t leave him and he shifted nervously in his seat.

 

Kristoph had gone across the street to get his medicine and so Klavier looked in the side mirror to watch for his approach. After a delivery truck pulled away from the curb, that’s when he saw him.

 

The man was standing perfectly still as busy people rushed past him. He was wearing a tan trench coat over a rather dishevelled looking suit and an ugly blue beanie. The man was staring intently in his direction, though Klavier did not think he could see him through the tint of the car windows or the reflection of the side mirror.

 

Klavier stared back at the man, unable to take his eyes away. There was something about him that seemed awfully familiar. Perhaps he had known him before his accident.

 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t see Kristoph’s approach. His brother opened the driver’s door suddenly and he almost jumped in surprise.

 

“Here you are, brother,” Kristoph said, tossing the medicine to him. Klavier fumbled the catch and quickly looked back in the side mirror to see the mysterious man again. But where he had been standing, a young couple were reading a tourist map.

 

Kristoph pulled out of the parking space and started for home. The whole drive, Klavier was silent – he couldn’t shake the feeling he knew the trench coat-wearing man. 


	3. Chapter 3

_“It’s no good; there’s no way in,” the muffled voice announced. From his peripheral vision, Klavier could see the intense white light from which the voice had come._

_“What do you propose we do then?” came the impatient question from Klavier’s other side. He turned, expecting to see another ball of light, but instead his brother Kristoph stood beside him, arms crossed in annoyance. He was wearing his usual lilac suit, his long blonde hair styled as neatly as ever, but his eyes emitted a strange ethereal glow._

_“Michael will know what to do,” the light assured. The warehouse before him began to blur, the glowing sigils becoming white smudges._

_“Michael isn’t coming…” Kristoph insisted as the images and sounds began to fade away._

_Soon, Klavier was left once again in the blindingly white light. However, the blood sigil did not make an appearance. Instead, a new scene appeared before him: he was seated at a round table, accompanied by numerous balls of light of different colours and sizes. They were all making some sort of soft noise that Klavier couldn’t comprehend._ Were they _talking_ to each other? _Whatever they were doing, the balls quietened as the final seat opposite him was finally taken._ _Before him was the biggest ball of light, shining fiercely bright and blue._

_The balls of light buzzed expectantly, as if waiting for the newest arrival to do something. And then it spoke._

_“It seems Alistair has captured the prophet – “_

_Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech._

_The light’s deep voice suddenly turned high pitched, like nails scratching on a chalkboard. Klavier tried to cover his ears to block out the noise, but to no avail. The blood sigil flashed before him warningly. He tried to move, to run away from the piercing noise but found he couldn’t. The blood sigil flashed more insistently, brighter than before, communicating to him something he could not understand. Then his vision began to blacken and the noise recede._

_“Your heavenly music can’t save you now,” a sickly sweet, female voice cooed into the blackness._

\------

 

Klavier awoke with a start, sitting up quickly in his bed. His bedroom was still dark, the house silent apart from his heavy breathing. He rubbed at his face with shaking hands, wiping the sweat from his brow.

 

The newest scene to his dream had disturbed him greatly. His ears were faintly ringing with a barely there pain, which he thought very strange. It had only been dream, hadn’t it? Why should his ears ache while he was awake?

 

He didn’t want to go back to sleep again, but it was only 2am and he could already feel the exhaustion pulling at his consciousness. He settled back in his bed wearily and warily. It wasn’t long until sleep found him.

 

\------

 

“Klavier, you must go.”

 

He looked up from his cereal perplexedly and turned to his brother who was sifting through a kitchen cupboard.

 

“Go where?” he asked with a mouth full of cornflakes.

 

“Hmm?” Kristoph spun around with his eyebrows raised. “What was that?”

 

“ _Go where?_ ” Klavier repeated, irked.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kristoph replied, a mixture of annoyance and confusion crossing his face.

 

“Didn’t you say… oh forget it.” Klavier waved his hand in dismissal and went back to his breakfast. He could see Kristoph staring at him in the corner of his eye, but his eyes and focus stayed on his cereal. After a few moments, his brother turned back to the cupboard.

 

“Klavier, _you must go_.”

 

“Okay seriously, what do you want?” Klavier demanded angrily. Why was Kristoph messing with him like this?

 

“Whah?” His brother was at a loss for words. “I haven’t said anything,” Kristoph replied slowly, expression completely confused.

 

Klavier stared at him unconvinced.

 

“You must be hearing things, dear brother,” Kristoph continued, concern evident in his tone.

 

“ _Klavier, leave._ ”

 

His eyes widened. That _definitely_ hadn’t been Kristoph; his brother’s lips hadn’t so much as twitched!

 

He stood up quickly, almost knocking his chair to the floor.

 

_Don’t panic don't panic don't panic._

“I’m fine,” he said in a tone that indicated that he was anything but. Rushing out of the kitchen, Klavier headed straight for his bedroom.

 

“ _Klavier, please, for your own safety – go._ ”

 

No, no, no. The buzzing noise was just a noise; he couldn’t understand it and it certainly didn’t _talk_ , especially not _to_ him.

 

He slammed the bedroom door and dove onto his bed; head in hands, willing the voice to _just go_.


	4. Chapter 4

Klavier woke up after passing out on his bed with a groan. His head was pounding and the phantom of that screech from his dream this morning still echoing in his ears.

 

Sitting up, he realised just how long he’d slept for; the sun was already setting in the sky and the alarm clock read 4.30pm.

 

After sitting in the peaceful silence for a few minutes, Klavier headed to the kitchen, wary of what his brother was going to say.

 

But the kitchen was empty, as was the living room, bathroom and master bedroom. Kristoph had note left no note and Klavier was left wondering just where is brother had gone off to.

 

He wandered around the house aimlessly until he finally decided to sit on the couch in front of the TV. Only awake for 10 minutes and he was already bored out of his brain. His headache hadn’t alleviated so he didn’t even contemplate writing any music. He flipped the TV on briefly, but nothing held his interest. He turned it off and tossed the remote on the other couch in frustration.

 

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, mentally willing his headache to disappear. As expected, it didn’t work. Klavier slumped back into the couch and pondered what to do next. His pounding head had made his stomach feel queasy, so eating was out of the question.

 

That left him with very few options; most of the time, if he wasn’t writing music, he was watching TV or stuffing his face with food. Maybe he could run laps of the hallway. He chuckled at the silly idea.

 

He stayed seated on the couch for a good half hour before he summoned the energy to move. Headache having faded to a dull, background throbbing, he shuffled to the kitchen in search of sustenance.

 

As he walked through the hall, he noticed the door to Kristoph’s study slightly ajar. He frowned.

 

_That’s odd. Kristoph’s so anal about having that thing shut._

 

He moved to the door, intent on closing it, when his curiosity got the better of him. His brother had never let him into the study. Whenever he was out, Kristoph would lock the door and forbid Klavier from entering.

 

_But Kristoph isn’t here right now. What harm could there be in taking a quick peek?_

He slowly pushed the door open with a single finger and the hinges creaked ominously. Inside, the curtains were closed, casting the room into darkness. Klavier snorted. Trust his brother to have such a cliché secret lair.

 

He switched on the light and sauntered into the room nonchalantly. It was a typical looking study: Large wooden desk in the centre, walls covered in dusty old books.

 

Klavier did a circuit of the room, running his hands along the book spines as he went. He pulled out a book at random and flipped through the pages with disinterest.

 

_No pictures – how boring._

 

Just as he was about to snap the book closed, he noticed the peculiar writing. Most of the letters he recognised from English, but there were a few odd ‘a’ and ‘e’ characters.

 

_Latin?_

 

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,

omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis

adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica,” he read out loud.

 

_We exorcise you, every impure spirit,_

_Every satanic power, every incursion of the infernal Adversary,_

_Every legion, every congregation and diabolical sect_

Okay, a lot of problems with that. One, why did his brother have books written in Latin; two, why did his brother have books written in Latin about exorcising demons; and three, how the hell did _he_ know how to read Latin?

 

Klavier carefully put the book back on the shelf and took a wary step back; as if he were frightened the book would come to life and attack him.

 

Taking a deep, calming breath, he tried to sort through his chaotic thoughts.

 

Answer to question one: Kristoph can speak German, so it’s not too far of a stretch to think he can speak Latin as well.

 

Answer to question two: Kristoph has _really_ peculiar interests. Now that he thought about it more, the trip that new age store made a little more sense. His brother must have a thing for the supernatural.

 

Answer to question three: if Kristoph had learnt Latin, maybe Klavier had learnt it with him. His amnesia hadn’t affected his ability to understand language, just his ability to _remember_ that he understood it.

 

Curious to test out his newfound skill, Klavier picked out another book. This one was thicker and older than the first and had no title on the spine or front. He opened it gingerly and caught a whiff of that lovely old book smell.

 

He carefully turned over the tissue-thin blank page and widened his eyes in shock. The book wasn’t written in Latin. Instead, odd characters slightly reminiscent of Arabic numbers were printed on the page. They had too many extra tails and curves to be Arabic though and something in the back of his mind shouted _Enochian_.

 

Oddly enough, he could read bits and pieces of the passage. … _Prophet of the Lord… the righteous man… blood of the fallen…_

 

He turned a few more pages until he came across a large diagram. It was hand drawn onto the page and an exact replica of the blood sigil from his dream.

 

The sigil seemed to come alive as he stared at it, pulsing, glowing red. His headache came back with a vengeance and Klavier fell to his knees in shock.

 

The agony blurred his vision and tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

“ _It seems Alistair has captured the Prophet of the Lord…”_

The voice echoed in his head until he blacked out. 


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Klavier noticed when he came to was that he wasn’t in Kristoph’s study any more. In fact, he didn’t think he was in their house either. The room was completely dark and his eyes couldn’t see anything even after ten minutes of adjusting.

 

He couldn’t move – his wrists were tied behind his back and his ankles and chest fixed to the chair he was sitting in.

 

The air was cool and damp – a basement perhaps?

 

As he was pondering just how he got to this place, a lock clicked open and loud, echoing footsteps approached him.

 

“Who’s there?” he called out timidly. 

 

There was no answer as the footsteps came to a stop about a metre away from him.

 

All of the sudden the lights were clapped on, leaving Klavier temporarily blinded. When he could see once more, he cautiously lifted his head to find his brother Kristoph standing in front of him.

 

“Oh Kristoph!” he exclaimed, relieved. “Thank god you’re here. Help me with these?” Klavier squirmed in his seat in an attempt to loosen the ropes that tied him to the chair.

 

“Klavier, Klavier, Klavier,” Kristoph chided. A pout appeared on his brother’s face, disturbingly out of place. “How many times did I tell you to stay out of my study?”

 

Klavier froze, speechless. He stared up at his brother incredulously with his mouth wide open. Kristoph simply regarded him with amusement and didn’t bother to explain why Klavier was here.

 

Finally coming to his senses, Klavier asked: “What am I doing here, brother?”

 

Kristoph pushed his glasses up, the reflection from the lights hiding his eyes.

 

“You’ve seen too much,” he stated simply.

 

“ _Seen too much?_ What does that mean?”

 

“There were reasons why I didn't want you in that room for your own safety, but now… I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay here until I formulate a better plan.”

 

Kristoph turned away from him then, taking out a permanent marker from his pocket. He walked back over to the door he’d entered from and began drawing on it.

 

Klavier took this time to do a quick survey of the room now that he could actually see it. There were no windows; all the walls were bare and off-white. In the corners, mould and mildew were building up. Apart from him and the chair, the room was empty. Great.

 

He refocused his attention on his brother. Kristoph was drawing a symbol on the outer side of the door, which Klavier recognised straight away.

 

“Why are you writing in Enochian?” he inquired, bemused.

 

Kristoph lowered the marker and moved slowly to face Klavier again. His eyes were wide with shock and was that _fear_ Klavier could see?

 

“How do you know that?” Kristoph demanded none too politely.

 

 Klavier angled his body away from his brother and shrugged.

 

 “Don’t know. Maybe I’m regaining my memory?”

 

Instead of Kristoph being grateful, this information appeared to anger him further.

 

He eyed Klavier with suspicion, left hand clenching and unclenching. Then he spun back around and hastily finished drawing the sigil, pressing the marker into the door with excessive force. It was the exact same sigil that had been haunting Klavier’s dreams for over a week now, but he still had no idea what it meant.

 

Once finished with the sigil, Kristoph shoved the marker back into his pocket and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He hadn’t so much as looked at Klavier before leaving, but thankfully he’d left the lights on.

 

Klavier wriggled in his seat, desperately trying to loosen the ropes. He tried untying the knots at his wrists, but his fingers were angled in the wrong direction to get a proper grip. It was no use – he was stuck.

 

_Why the hell has Kristoph tied me up?_ He scowled. _Has he lost his mind?_

 

His initial confusion had been replaced with anger. If Kristoph thought he could get away with this, he had another thing coming. Klavier tried to shuffle the chair towards the door, lamenting when he realised it was bolted to the floor. This just made him even angrier. He cried out in frustration, the sound bouncing eerily off the bare walls.

 

After a good hour of seething and fruitless struggling, Klavier was exhausted. His shoulders ached like they’d been dislocated and his hands were numb from lack of circulation. He hung his head, for now giving up on trying to escape. Closing his eyes, he attempted to calm his raging thoughts. Sleep soon followed.

 

**\------**

 

_He was back at the abandoned warehouse. The ball of light was to his left, Kristoph to his right._

_“Michael isn’t coming…” Kristoph said._

_“You must have faith, brother,” the ball of light insisted. “Michael wouldn’t leave us to such a task without his assistance.”_

_Kristoph huffed, irritated. The three stood staring at the warehouse in front of them. The sigils glowed faintly, mocking them. Klavier thought he could understand them now: ‘_ we cast you out, host of heaven’.

 

_The warehouse warped and the sky changed colour from cerulean to periwinkle. The day was drawing to a close. Before him now, were almost a dozen balls of light, buzzing with anxiety._

_“Why isn’t he here yet?” one asked._

_“We have failed; the keeper of the word is surely dead,” said another._

_Klavier tried to speak, but his mouth remained firmly shut. The sigils were glowing brighter, now that the sun was setting. What was inside that building that it needed to be protected by wards? The balls of light seemed reluctant to speak of the details. All Klavier could gather was there was something of value inside, something that was in danger the longer they could not reach it. He’d heard them mention a ‘keeper of the word’, but Klavier had no idea what that meant._

_“Brothers, sisters!” a voice called out. Klavier turned to his right and saw Kristoph heading towards the group, pulling a young woman behind him. The woman was bounded at the wrists and ankles by ropes of blinding light. Her long red hair covered her face as she kept her eyes downcast._

_He heard some of the bundles of light gasp behind him. Others began muttering to each other too softly for Klavier to overhear._

_“I bring you the key to our entrance,” Kristoph announced triumphantly. He pushed the woman to her knees and pulled back her hair so everyone could see her face._

_What Klavier saw was absolutely terrifying. He could hear noises of disgust come from the group at his back, but he paid them no mind. He was too transfixed on the horrible sight before him._

_Instead of the face of a human, the woman had the face of a monster._ Demon! _Somewhere in his subconscious shouted. He didn’t doubt it – nothing of this world could look so repulsive._

_The woman’s skin was black, pock-marked where maggots were eating away at her flesh. She had no nose, just two nostril holes. Yellowed teeth jutted out from behind shrivelled lips. Her eyelids had decayed so she didn’t blink and the whites of her eyes were inky black. All of this darkness was contrasted with her fiery hair that fell perfectly down her back._

_“Why do you bring such evil to us?” one ball of light demanded, aghast. The demon’s appearance was unsettling all the assembled._

_“This traitorous creature has agreed to let us enter in exchange for its life,” Kristoph replied, tugging on the demon’s hair.  The demon snarled, but otherwise didn’t react._

_“How can you expect us to trust a demon? It is surely a trap!”_

_Kristoph smirked. “If she tries to deceive us, I’ll kill her myself.”_

_He pulled the demon to her feet. “Break the wards,” he commanded to her._

_“Of course, Your Grace,” the demon purred in a sickly sweet voice that Klavier recognised from somewhere._

_The demon turned and locked eyes with Klavier, smirking devilishly. The scene began to blur and he could tell the dream was ending._

_The colour began to fade. “Your heavenly music can’t save you now,” the demon cooed into the darkness._


	6. Chapter 6

Klavier woke with a start, immediately aware that he wasn’t alone. The lights had been turned off again sometime during his slumber, but he could sense another’s presence.

 

“Kristoph, let me go,” he pleaded wearily. His sleep hadn’t eased any of the pain and now his neck was sore as well.

 

“I may not be your brother, but I can give you what you want,” a honeyed voice replied.

 

Klavier sat up straight on high alert. There was a stranger in the room, a stranger who had been watching him sleep. He repressed a shiver.

 

“Who are you?” he demanded.

 

“Who am I? Well…”

 

The lights flickered on revealing the stranger in front of him. She was a slender young woman, with straight auburn hair and pale skin. She had a pretty face with petite features and a small, disarming smile. She wore a soft pink dress, matching parasol tucked under her arm.

 

“I’m your saviour,” she stated simply.

 

“ _Excuse me?”_

 

“Your saviour,” she repeated. “You may call me Rubahlia.”

 

“Okay, Rubahlia…” he began warily. “I’m guessing my brother doesn’t know you’re here. How did you get passed him?”

 

“I have my ways,” she replied vaguely. She rocked up on to her toes and back down again, clearly unwilling to reveal the details. Her sweet smile grew wider at Klavier’s suspicious gaze.

 

“I’m breaking you out of here, what more could you possibly want to know?” she asked innocently.

 

“Well, firstly: _why_?” He wasn’t buying her sweet innocence act; there was more to this situation than met the eye.

 

Rubahlia glanced at the door then back to Klavier.

 

“I suppose we have time for one little story…” She took a step closer to him. “This may seem a tad far fetched, but I’m an angel of the Lord.”

 

Klavier snorted. “An _angel?_ Do you take me for some sort of fool?”

 

Rubahlia ignored his outburst, unperturbed.

 

“Your brother has strayed from the path of righteousness, in favour of that of evil and corruption.”

 

Klavier was still unconvinced. _How did this crazy fräulein end up here? Maybe Kristoph stuck her in here to annoy me._

“You can’t deny that your brother has been engaging in some very odd behaviour: searching for holy oil, reading up on angel lore and demon exorcism…”

 

_The books in his study!_ “How do you know about that?”

 

Rubahlia rolled her eyes and laid a hand over her heart. “ _Angel._ ”

 

_No, there must be another explanation – angels aren’t real._

 

“I can prove it to you, Klavier. Just let me help get you out of here,” she said softly.

 

“And how are you going to do that, huh?”

 

In response, Rubahlia pulled out a small knife from the handle of her parasol. Klavier leant back in his chair, wary of what she was going to do next. She bent down and cut the ropes away from his chest. She then cut free his ankles and wrists.

 

Klavier stayed seated, rubbing his wrists where the rope had chaffed. He was still suspicious of this mysterious woman, though he couldn’t deny that it appeared she genuinely wanted him out of here. The _why_ was becoming increasingly more important than the _how._

 

“Come on, let’s get you to safety.” She held out a dainty hand and Klavier took it after a moment’s hesitation.

 

All of a sudden, the room had changed – he was no longer in the white basement. Instead, Klavier and Rubahlia were standing in the middle of a rundown hotel room. Klavier’s eyes were wide with surprise.

 

“Did we just…”

 

“Teleport? Yes we did.” Rubahlia walked over to the mini bar and took out a bottle of water, tossing it to the still in-shock Klavier. She sighed heavily.

 

“I told you I was an angel.”

 

Klavier nodded silently. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. But now that he did… Could she really be an angel or was Rubahlia using some sort of voodoo magic? He opened up the bottle and took a small sip. It tasted fine, so he took a lager one; he’d grown thirsty, locked up in that basement.

 

“So why did I need saving from my brother?” he asked in a casual tone.

 

The angel looked up from the bag she’d been rifling through.

 

“Like I said before, he’s strayed from the path of righteousness.”

 

“And what does that _mean_ exactly?”

 

“He was making a demon deal and you were to be the bargaining chip,” she deadpanned.

 

“He – what?” Klavier was thankful that he hadn’t been drinking otherwise we would have spat out the water right in her face.

 

“You were going to be sold to a demon. I don’t know the specifics, so don’t ask.” Rubahlia turned back to her bag and took out a piece of chalk. She walked to the front door and began drawing a familiar symbol on it: the blood sigil.

 

‘ _We cast you out, host of heaven,”_ it read. Wait, that wasn’t right. Wasn’t she an angel? Weren’t they supposed to be avoiding a demon?

 

He took a step back, his mind racing. Kristoph had warded the basement before he’d left with an angel banishing sigil, so how did Rubahlia enter in the first place?

 

Klavier cleared his throat anxiously.

 

“Why are you warding _against_ angels?” he asked.

 

Rubahlia faced him, expression blank. “You can _read_ that?”

 

Klavier nodded meekly.

 

The ‘angel’ studied him for a moment before a smirk spread across her face.

 

“Well, well, well. Looks like I’ve been caught out. You’re right, Klavier, I’m not an angel. In fact, I’m not on heaven’s side at all. You see…”

 

She began stalking towards him. With no place to go, Klavier stood his ground and tried not to look too petrified. Rubahlia’s whole demeanour had changed; she didn’t look so innocent anymore.

 

“I’m a demon,” she whispered with a devilish grin.

 

Klavier swallowed. He was in hot water now.

 

**\------**

 

A man stood in the middle of the empty street, narrowed gaze fixed to the abandoned restaurant before him. A strong wind had picked up, his tan trench coat flapping about. He’d been observing the building for some time now; when he’d realised Klavier had been moved, he’d flown as quickly as possible to his new location.

 

The angel warding sigils barred him from entering; Kristoph had been pulling all the stops to avoid angel confrontation.

 

Suddenly, he felt a change in the air: an unpleasant stench, undetectable to human senses, wafted from the restaurant.

 

_Demon._

 

He hunched his shoulders in frustration. He’d had his suspicions, but now he was certain Kristoph had truly become corrupt. Working with demons was strictly forbidden, resulting in a fall from grace for those who were caught.

 

He looked on anxiously. What did the demon want with Kristoph? He tucked his hands deep into his coat pockets, pondering.

 

After about five minutes, the awful stench faded, signifying the demon’s departure. But that wasn’t all who departed – he could no longer sense Klavier’s presence.

 

By the time he realised the demon had taken Klavier, it was too late. They’d already vanished, probably to another secure location that he couldn’t infiltrate.

 

He circled the restaurant once more, thinking that there may be a way in now that his target had left. He was bitterly disappointed.

 

Kristoph was no longer in the building either – he’d left some time before the demon had arrived.

 

The man resettled in his position on the street. He had a hunch that Klavier’s removal from the building hadn’t been planned. And if that were so, Kristoph would be coming back.

 

It was time they had a little chat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rubahlia = Ruby + Dahlia if you hadn't already worked it out


	7. Chapter 7

For all his paranoia, Kristoph had been relatively easy to find. He’d been distracted; for what reason, Wrightiel had no idea. It was clear that the other hadn’t realised his brother’s ‘escape’. He sat down at one of the decaying wooden tables in the restaurant, opening up an old tome. He never saw Wrightiel coming.

 

\------

 

Klavier squirmed in the latest chair he was tied to. He sighed in frustration. _I’m released from one captor, only to be imprisoned minutes later by another._

 

After Rubahlia had let Klavier in on her secret, she’d quickly tied him up – tighter than before. The demon had left moments later – _just have to make a phone call,_ she’d said – and turned the TV on for his ‘enjoyment’. Klavier had never been one for watching the news since his accident, and the evil bitch had left it on a 24/7 news station.

 

 _As if I need to be more depressed,_ he thought miserably. The news stories had been about ghastly murders, terrorist threats or natural disasters. He’d wondered if that had been her doing, but remembered she was a demon, not a magician. Currently, the anchorwoman was talking about a cold case being reopened.

 

 “… Left no comment on just why the case has been reopened now. Six months ago, 19 year old, Maya Fey, visited her sister in the city, never returning to her hometown of Kurain. At the time, police had no leads or evidence, only that Ms Fey didn’t catch the train back to her village. The police are urging anyone – “

 

“I’m baaack,” Rubahlia sing-songed as she sauntered into the room. Klavier cursed softly in surprise; he hadn’t even heard the door open.

 

On her face was a wicked smile and in her hands a pitcher of red liquid. His stomach flipped uncomfortably at the stench: _blood._

           

The demon was oblivious to his repulsion; she cleared the small dinning table, setting the pitcher, a bowl and some candles down on it. Slowly, she poured the blood into the bowl. It slithered in slowly, half congealed. It was all Klavier could do not to gag. He tried to look away, but morbid curiosity got the better of him. Rubahlia began lighting the candles, chanting softly as she did so. She went back to her duffle bag and produced a sachet of green powder. She sprinkled some into the bowl before dipping her fingertips into the blood. She closed her eyes.

 

“Hello?” she called out. After a long pause: “Yes, it’s me…”

 

Klavier looked away; it wasn’t polite to stare at someone while they were taking a call.

 

\------

 

“Hello, Kristoph,” Wrightiel greeted blandly.

 

The blonde whipped his head up, eyes full of terror. He schooled his features quickly when he realised which brother had found him. A sly smile spread across his face.

 

“Wrightiel, how good of you to come.” He absentmindedly flipped through the tome. “I thought that was you lurking outside before.” He closed the book gently and pushed his glasses further up his nose.

 

“Why are you doing this, brother?”

 

 Kristoph chuckled quietly. “My, you don’t waste time, do you?” He stood up, taking the book with him. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand,” he replied in a tone suggesting the conversation was over.

 

“You know I can’t let you leave,” Wrightiel deadpanned.

 

Kristoph looked at him with amusement. “I don’t believe you have the power to stop me.” At Wrightiel’s confused expression, Kristoph elaborated. “Klavier has been so kind to… _lend_ me his Grace.”

 

 "You stole his Grace?”

 

 “ _Borrowed_ ,” Kristoph corrected. “Now, I must be heading off, so if you’ll excuse me.” His form disappeared and Wrightiel was quick to pursue. But, much to his dismay, Kristoph had been right: Wrightiel _couldn’t_ stop him. With Klavier’s Grace, the blonde was too quick and skilful.

 

Wrightiel had no notion of where Kristoph could have gone, so he returned to the restaurant in search of clues. He found the basement where Klavier had been kept easily enough; the door had been ripped off its hinges, the angel ward barely recognisable amidst the splintered wood. The angel stepped over the wreckage carefully and walked into the room.

 

The awful stench of that demon was still strong. Wrightiel pulled off his beanie and held it to his face, taking in the scent of his vessel’s hair rather than that of hell.

 

The room was completely barren apart from the chair and ropes in the centre of the room. He narrowed his eyes in anger – there were no clues here.

 

As he began to leave, something pulled at his memory. That hellish stench, he’d smelt it before. Reluctantly, he lowered his beanie in order to get a better whiff. After a few moments pondering, he realised who it belonged to: _Rubahlia._

 

Immediately, he took to the sky. He could easily track the demon by scent; after all, he’d done it before. He didn’t have to go far – he found the demon a mere hour south of the restaurant. To his great pleasure, there was nothing stopping him from entering the room in which she inhabited.

 

\------

 

Klavier swayed in his chair. Although Rubahlia had ended her ‘call’ some time ago, the stink of blood was still heavy in the air. It was sickening.

 

The demon was currently sprawled out on the bed, watching the television with little interest. From what he’d gathered from Rubahlia’s side of the call, she was awaiting further instructions.

 

 The lights in the room began to flicker ominously and the demon sat up cautiously. Klavier didn’t know whether to feel relief or worry at her apprehensive expression.

 

 All of a sudden, a man in a tan trench coat stood before them. Rubahlia scrambled off the bed and to the farthest corner in the room.

 

“How’d you get in here?” she demanded, eyes wide with fury and fear.

 

The man ( _why did he look so familiar?_ ) glanced briefly at the front door.

 

“It seems you only did a half job,” he explained in a deep, gravely voice.

 

_The sigil! That’s right, I interrupted her while she was still drawing it._

 

“Now, now,” the demon began nervously. She held up both hands in a placating gesture. “Let’s not make any rash decisions.”

 

The man furrowed his brow and stared at the demon perplexedly. Then, he outstretched his arm, twisting his hand into a fist.

 

Rubahlia’s knees buckled. “Nooooo!” she screamed as her eyes rolled back in her head. Light shone from her eyes and her head was tossed back, not of her own volition, a black smoke pouring out of her opened mouth. Her screech echoed in the room and the smoke shot upwards into the air, disappearing into the ceiling. When there was no more smoke, Rubahlia collapsed in a heap on the ground. She didn’t move.

 

The man turned towards Klavier, eyes studying him. Klavier shifted uneasily under the man’s gaze. He still didn’t know whether to be relieved or fearful. After all, this man could be worse than Rubahlia.

 

“You’ve nothing to fear now, Klavier,” he assured. With a flick of his wrist, the ropes binding Klavier to the chair slithered away. _I’m free!_

 

He was not so naïve as to immediately trust his rescuer. That hadn’t gone so well for him last time.

 

“Who _are_ you?” he asked warily.

 

The man stared at him silently for a moment. “My name is Wrightiel… I am an angel of the Lord.”


	8. Chapter 8

Maya Fey stared at the tablet in frustration. The stone felt heavy in her hands. She’d been at this for hours and hadn’t made a letter of progress.

 

“I’m telling you – I can’t read this!” she whined.

 

A chuckle came from a darkened corner in the room.

 

“And how many times do I tell you that you can? Keep reading.”

 

Maya puffed out her cheeks in defiance, but her tantrum went unnoticed by her captor. She hunched her shoulders, all the fight in her suddenly slipping away. She’d been sitting in the same chair, at the same table, reading – more like _trying_ to read – the same stone tablet for over a week now. And not a single burger had she consumed!

 

Her captor hadn’t been forthcoming with details, but apparently she had the special ability to understand the ancient language carved into the tablet. Maya had tried telling him that her special ability was spirit channelling but he hadn’t listened.

 

She directed her gaze back to the tablet and its incomprehensible letters. Suddenly, a light went on in her head. If she pretended she knew what it said, maybe she’d be released. After all, she was supposedly the only one who could translate it; how would they know she was lying?

 

Maya picked up the pen that lay on her desk. _I need to come up with a brilliant lie – brain, don’t fail me now!_

 

* * *

 

Rubahlia smoothed down the fabric of her skirt; it would not do to look dishevelled considering whom she was about to meet. She crossed her ankles and peered around the scene before her innocently.

 

The hotel was all but falling down: most of the wallpaper had peeled right off the walls, all the metal fixtures had rusted away and anything even remotely breakable had been smashed to pieces. Immediately before her lay the dead vessel of a lowly ranked angel who had naively thought could outsmart her. Boy, had she proved him wrong. She was watching a rat gnaw at the corpse’s eyelid with mild interest when her companion arrived.

 

“Miss Rubahlia, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” he apologised. Light glistened off his glasses as he bowed his head graciously.

 

 “No problem at all,” she assured him. “I had some light entertainment to keep me occupied anyway.” She smirked as her companion glanced down at the body between them. He offered her a wry smile.

 

“It seems my brother failed to give you enough credit.” He tutted. “Inias always was a little foolhardy.”

 

Rubahlia recrossed her ankles and cusped her hands in her lap. “Tell me Kristoph,” she cocked her head to the left, “where do angels go when they die?”

 

Kristoph pushed his glasses further up his nose (why an _angel_ needed glasses, Rubahlia had no idea).

 

“I do not know. Why do you ask?” He crossed his arms, probably wondering if the demon had plans for him to suffer a similar fate to Inias.

 

Rubahlia smiled sweetly. “I’d like to meet him again, Inias. Offer him all the perks of hell.”

 

Surprisingly, Kristoph chuckled. “I hope that doesn’t happen any time soon. I need you on earth, not in hell.”

 

He stepped over the corpse nonchalantly. “Shall we get down to business then?”

 

Rubahlia bared her teeth in a hungry smile. Her brilliant scheme was falling into place.

 

* * *

 

Klavier looked at Wrightiel with disbelief; this was the second time someone had told him that they were an angel of the Lord. However, the more he stared at the man in front of him, the more he was inclined to believe him.

 

Wrightiel observed him with hunched shoulders and a frown. The silence coupled with the angel's intense stare was becoming too much for Klavier. He cleared his throat.

 

"So… an angel of the Lord, huh?" He stood up hesitantly and stretched his aching limbs. "Why should I believe you?"

 

Wrightiel tilted his head to the side, his frown deepening. "I exorcised a demon with my mind – that should be proof enough."

 

Klavier shuffled on his feet. It wasn't that Wrightiel's stare was _that_ uncomfortable, Klavier just had the impression he was missing something.

 

"You're the man I saw on Saturday, ja?" he asked.

 

The angel straightened his head. "Yes," he replied simply. No explanation. He repositioned the blue beanie on his head as he examined the hotel room.  "We should leave. It's not safe for you here." He stepped towards Klavier, arm outstretched.

 

"Woah, woah, woah," Klavier exclaimed, scrambling out of the angel's reach. "I'm not going anywhere without a proper explanation."

 

He didn't think it possible, but Wrightiel furrowed his brow further.

 

"Kristoph hasn't told you," he surmised.

 

_Now what?_ "Told me what?"

 

Wrightiel looked reluctant to speak. He chose his next words careful.

 

"Kristoph has been lying to you. Klavier… you are an angel of the Lord like me."

 

Klavier couldn't help letting out a bark of disbelieving laughter. Him, an angel? Wrightiel had to be joking.

 

But Wrightiel's expression was solemn, mingled with a little bit of pity. "Klavier, please. I will explain further once I've brought you to a safer location."

 

Before Klavier could protest, Wrightiel lurched forward with inhuman speed and grabbed his shoulder. The ground beneath his feet dropped away and the hotel room disappeared. He was flying.


	9. Chapter 9

Kurain was normally a sleepy little village, but there was something in the air that had everyone on edge. It wasn’t something anyone could articulate beyond questioning glances and uneasy shrugs.

 

For weeks now it had been immensely difficult to channel a spirit, be they violent or willing. Something was happening in the spirit world – something bad – but not even the most experienced spirit channellers could explain it.

 

As Master, it was Maya’s responsibility to hone her skills whenever she could, especially in these unusually difficult times. It was whilst she was offering a prayer to the spirit world in the Channeling Chamber that she had her first vision.

 

_A man enters a room. It’s dark and the image is blurry, but she can make out his long blonde hair and lilac suit. He walks towards a young lady in white. There’s another man on the floor – sleeping it looks like – and the two conscious strangers seem to laugh at him. She can’t hear what they’re saying – it’s as if she’s watching the scene through a thick layer of glass. The lady in white stands from her seat and hands a scroll over the man in lilac. The man in lilac bows, the lady in white curtsies. They laugh. And the scene fades away…_

 

“Mystic Maya! Mystic Maya!” She woke up to insistent shrugging.

 

“Mmmrghmf,” Maya groaned. It felt like someone had hit her in the head with a baseball bat.

 

“She lives!” someone exclaimed from behind her.

 

“Uwah?” Her vision was still blurred and she was very, very confused.

 

“Mystic Maya, are you alright?” Her younger cousin, Pearl Fey, leant over her, face stricken with worry.

 

She sat up slowly with the help of some acolytes-in-training. When her head finally stopped spinning she asked:

 

“What happened?” She was still in the Channeling Chamber; she’d been preparing to channel her favourite spirit – Myra Fey – and then… nothing. She couldn’t remember what happened next.

 

Pearl bit her lip. “You’d been in here for a while, Mystic Maya,” she explained. “We were all getting concerned.” The acolytes nodded their heads in agreement. “When Mystic Mona realized the door was unlocked, we knew there had to be something wrong.

 

_The door was unlocked? I could’ve sworn I locked it before I began…_ She covertly checked her sleeve pocket – the key was inside. How peculiar.

 

“I think Master Maya is just a little worn out,” Mystic Mona suggested. “She’s been training non-stop ever since…” She didn’t have to explain any further; everyone understood what she meant.

 

“Yeah, that must be it,” Maya concurred. She _was_ feeling awfully tired.

 

Mystic Mona and Pearls guided her to her room so that she could rest. As Maya closed her eyes to sleep, she vaguely recalled the strange vision she’d had. _Something about a white guy and a purple girl…_ Sleep found her quickly.

 

* * *

 

Klavier hadn’t said a word since Wrightiel had revealed Kristoph’s lie. The angel had flown him to a cabin in the middle of a national park. He was waiting for his sister, Lana, to arrive and pass on Michael’s instructions. Klavier was staring into the fire Wrightiel had made, completely engrossed. It seemed that he was processing the news of Kristoph’s deceit; Wrightiel hated to think how Klavier would react once he knew Kristoph had done more than lie to him.

 

The angel remembered the day Klavier had lost his grace – Kristoph had disobeyed Michael’s express orders and Klavier had volunteered to find and bring him to justice. The former angel had always been so close to Kristoph…

 

He remembered the easy confidence that once emanated from Klavier, how he’d flirt with any angel in the garrison or calm tension with his beautiful songs. But he was completely different to the amnesic mortal who was gazing into the fire. _This_ Klavier was far more reserved, quiet. He’d panicked and passed out when Wrightiel had tried to communicate with him. The stark contrast of the two personalities was unsettling.

 

Wrightiel frowned and walked towards the window. He could sense that his sister was close. Hopefully, she would bring word on how to act next – Wrightiel needed a distraction from his musings.

 

* * *

 

An angel of the Lord; he was an _angel of the Lord_. Wrightiel, an angel of the Lord, had stalked Klavier, an angel of the Lord. He rubbed his brow wearily. It had been a lot to take in; everything he knew – everything he _thought_ he knew – was a lie. There’d been no car accident, no successful music career. Had Kristoph been an angel too? That would explain his study and the weird books Klavier had read there.

 

His thoughts were rambling. Though he’d done little else but sleep these past few days, he was exhausted. He couldn’t even summon the energy enough to talk to Wrightiel. There was a lot he didn’t know and needed to ask, but his exhaustion had brought with it a degree of apathy. So instead of learning more about his current situation, he fixed his attention on the fire before him.

 

For the most part, Wrightiel had been standing at the dining table, eyes never leaving Klavier. Suddenly the angel moved, striding towards one of the cabin’s windows. The movement brought Klavier from his reverie.

 

_Is someone here?_ The angel was gazing out the window with his usual intensity. He’d told Klavier that they were awaiting one of his sisters who would bring instructions on how to act next. He was overcome with a strange sense of déjà vu; Rubahlia had done the same.

 

He turned back to the fire. Its warmth calmed him, though it added to his sleepiness. He stifled a yawn; it had been days since he’d slept in a proper bed and that fact was beginning to take its toll on his body. The chair he was sitting in was overstuffed causing his legs and back to ache more. Slowly he stood and shuffled over to the bed on the far side of the cabin. He doubted it would be much comfier, but at least he’d be able to stretch out and rest his head.

 

He eased himself down onto the mattress and closed his eyes. Outside, he could here a bird flapping its wings. Wrightiel paced around the cabin. Everything faded out as sleep crept up on him.

 

“Lana?” he thought he heard Wrightiel say.

 

“Brother,” a voice replied. “I have some bad news…”


	10. Chapter 10

When Kristoph returned to the abandoned restaurant, he could tell straight away that something was wrong. He rushed down the stairs to the basement to find the basement door in pieces on the floor. His nostrils flared in anger as he stepped over the wreckage. As he suspected, Klavier was gone, his restraining ropes lying in a pool tangling around the chair legs.

 

In his wroth, he’d almost missed the familiar faint smell in the air.

 

_Rubahlia._ He kicked the chair over in an uncharacteristic display of anger. Kristoph teleported up the stairs and gathered his books. _Why did I trust that conniving bitch? I should have killed her when I had the chance._ He was just about the fly out in search of the traitor when he noticed an odd buzzing in the air. It was imperceptible to human touch, but angels could feel changes in the electromagnetic field acutely. Supernatural creatures left disturbances in the EMF, detectable by what humans called EMF meters. What those devices couldn't detect though, was the pattern or signature that certain supernatural entities left behind. Ghosts leave different disturbances in the EMF to poltergeists, for example. But the disturbance in the EMF was neither ghost nor poltergeist; it left a pattern similar to water ripples in ponds or puddles. A subtle disturbance only detectable by the most sensitive supernatural creatures. Kristoph knew that there was only one being that could have left this signature behind: angel.

 

_So, Wrightiel has been here as well._ The signature was too strong to have been left behind when the scruffy angel had confronted Kristoph; he must have come back a second time. _And he would’ve sensed Rubahlia’s presence as well…_ Or had they been here at the same time? Kristoph hoped not – his plans would be thwarted if the angels had taken back Klavier.

 

Realising time was of the essence Kristoph left the restaurant quickly. He could sense Rubahlia’s scent a short distance away. _So, she did get away, hopefully with Klavier in tow._ He appeared in the hotel room, immediately frustrated at what he saw: slumped against the wall was Rubahlia or rather Rubahlia’s meat suit. He could tell she was gone, exorcised back to hell.

 

Kristoph clenched and unclenched his fists. He could feel the soft rippling of Wrightiel’s signature in the EMF.

 

_Time to implement plan B._

* * *

 

Her hand had begun to cramp after “translating” a page worth of writing. Maya put her pen down and slumped in her chair. Her stomach rumbled in protest of the lack of burgers. _Don’t worry little fella. If all goes to plan, I’ll be eating burgers faster than you can say Master Ami’s ashes._

For the past hour she’d been making up a translation of the stone tablet from the little bits and pieces she’d over heard from her captor and his cronies. They’d been talking about angels and harnessing the power of their grace. It sounded like nonsense to her, but she wasn’t about to make her opinion known. Back in Kurain, she’d had a few lessons on other religions and spiritualities. She’d remembered learning about angels as a very young girl and had tried to recall as much of that info as she possibly could while making her phoney translation. Spirits that she channelled often talked about angels, but she’d always been sceptical about their existence.

 

She sighed. Thinking about her village always made her sad. She couldn’t be sure, but it felt like it had been almost a year since she’d seen its rolling hills and lush forests, her acolytes in training and little Pearly. She missed Pearls the most. The last time she’d seen her was through the train window, the little girl waving enthusiastically, her pink and purple form fading as the train pulled away from the station.

 

That trip to visit her sister in the city had been the start of this whole mess. She’d spent two weeks with Mia, helping her with her filing and seeing all that the city had to offer. On the last day, they’d gone to see the latest Steel Samurai movie, Mia rolling her eyes all the way to the train station as Maya went on and on and on about how good it had been. Her sister couldn’t stay to see her off; she’d had a call from the office requesting her presence immediately. They’d parted ways before Maya had gone in search of a restroom.

 

_Why couldn’t I have gone at the movies? I’d probably been in Kurain right now playing with Pearly or channelling spirits._

 

She’d entered the bathroom to find a red-haired girl bent over the sink sobbing. Her bony hands were covered in scrapes and bruises.

 

“Are you alright?” Maya had asked. Still not accustomed to the city way of life, Maya had always been very friendly to strangers – a typical small town girl.

 

The redhead had turned around slowly, sniffing and trying to hold back tears.

 

“I’m fine,” she’d whispered, wiping a bloody hand under her nose.

 

“Are you sure?” _Gosh, why hadn’t I taken the hint?_

  

The girl had eyed Maya warily before answering. “A man just stole my bag,” she’d explained. “He pushed me to the floor.” She’d lifted up her injured hands as proof.

 

“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

 

The girl had considered her question. “Well…” She’d said, placing a slender hand on Maya’s shoulder. “There is _one_ thing.” At that Maya had felt a wave of nausea wash over her, her knees buckling as she crashed to the floor. The last she’d seen was the redhead’s face, her lips quirking up into a malicious grin.

 

Maya shivered at the memory. She hadn’t seen the girl since, but she was certain that she was part of this business with the tablet. Maya looked over her “translation” once more. She’d put a lot of effort into making it as authentic as possible. Hopefully it would fool her captors and she could return back to Kurain.

 

“I’m finished,” she called out meekly, suddenly nervous. She heard soft footfalls as her captor approached the table. She could never see his face – it was always cloaked in darkness – and this time was no different. The faceless man snatched the paper from her and read it. Maya’s heart was beating erratically in her chest. _Please be good, please be good, please be good._

 

The man chuckled. “What is this?” he demanded, tossing the paper back onto the desk. “You think you can fool me?”

 

Maya almost sobbed. All her hard work for nothing.

 

“Rubahlia will be hearing about this,” he warned before stalking off.

 

All her hard work and she may be worse off for it.


	11. Chapter 11

Klavier woke up to gentle shaking. Wrightiel was standing over him with a worried frown.

 

“We must keep moving. It’s not safe to linger here for too long.” The angel took a step back from the bed allowing space for Klavier to sit up. He was still groggy from sleep, but he could hear the buzzing noise slowly start up again like a million whispers at the back of his head.

 

“You ready?” Wrightiel asked.

 

Klavier groaned. “Need to p-“

 

Wrightiel placed a hand on his shoulder, he felt his stomach drop, everything went black and suddenly he was sitting on a different bed in a different cabin.

 

“-iss.” It had happened so quickly that he hadn’t thought to stop his sentence.

 

Wrightiel regarded him with curiosity. He quirked his head to the side. “ _‘Piss’_?”

 

Klavier rolled his eyes and stalked off in what he hoped was the direction of the toilet.

 

“Stupid angel and his stupid personal space issues,” he muttered darkly, slamming the bathroom door. He turned on the faucet and splashed water onto his face. It woke him up a little more, but to his dismay, did not transport him back into reality where he was a mere hit-and-run victim and angels didn’t exist.

 

He sighed, staring at his tired reflection in the mirror.

 

“An angel, huh?” he mumbled. But if that were true, why did he feel so human?

 

\------

 

“You know, if there is one thing I cannot tolerate, it’s liars.”

 

Maya was shivering violently. Her plan had backfired big time. Her captor hadn’t even been fooled for a second. And apparently he’d only been her keeper. The true mastermind, the one behind her kidnapping, was standing before her for the first time. There was something frightening about the man, but it wasn’t his massive frame, or his unwavering stare. He exuded an otherworldly aura, a power that Maya was too terrified to name.

 

“And you, Ms. Fey, are a liar.”

 

Maya gulped audibly. The man stared down at her with a blank expression. The moment stretched on for what felt like minutes, before a large grin spread across his face. And then he was laughing.

 

“Ohohoho!” he exclaimed, applauding for no reason Maya could fathom. “But I consider myself a generous being,” he continued. “So I’ll give you one more chance, Ms. Fey, but _only one more_.” His expression returned to its blank state. Tapping the tablet: “And make it quick. I’ve been waiting far too long already.”

 

Maya shrunk back as his arm invaded her personal space. As a spirit medium, she knew a thing or two about souls and this… ‘being’ didn’t have one.

 

“Right-o! I think I’ve wasted enough time here.” He stepped back, giving Maya a disconcerting smile. He left the room, his cronies following soon after.

 

And then she was alone. Again.

 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she grumbled, knocking her forehead against the table. Just what was she going to do _now_?

 

\------

 

Rubahlia had been a fool.

 

And _he_ had been a fool for trusting her.

 

Kristoph searched the hotel room looking for clues. There was a bowl full of blood sitting on the small dining table. He clenched his jaw. Rubahlia had promised not to do that. She’d _also_ promised to make sure Wrightiel stayed off his trail, that she wouldn’t _kidnap_ Klavier. He threw the bowl across the room in anger, blood splattering everywhere. Outsmarted by a demon. A spark of heavenly power flashed in his fists. He took a deep breath, stretched his neck. Calmed down before his anger got the best of him and this whole place blew up.

 

Of course, Kristoph had planned in case of betrayal. There was still the girl – the Prophet of the Lord – who he could use as leverage. With a beam of light the room returned to normalcy as if it had never been used.

 

He flew to yet another safe location of his where Rubahlia had been keeping the girl. But when he arrived, Kristoph could tell something was wrong. A foul stench hung in the air, too strong to be Rubahlia’s. The warehouse was still guarded against angels with the exception of himself (he’d found the necessary sigil in an ancient tome), however all the demon-warding sigils had been removed.

 

_Damnit!_ He went to fly away when some unusual markings on the ground caught his eye. They were unfamiliar to him and he squatted down to get a closer look. The patterns and characters made no sense together; he saw one about an angel to his left, the demon equivalent just above it. But then in the centre, he spied the Enochian symbol for fish and under his feet was the alphabet of an ancient human language. Curious. He brushed his fingers along the markings. Spray paint, still wet. Clearly, whoever had drawn this had no idea what they were doing.

 

Kristoph was so engrossed in trying to make any sense of the sigil that he missed the approach of several demons behind him. He heard the lighting of a match, but by then it was too late. He spun around to see a demon in a child’s vessel drop the match on the floor. A ring of fire erupted, trapping Kristoph within it.

 

“Holy oil,” the demon/child giggled, her companions joining in. Kristoph retained his composed façade, but internally he was panicking. An angel trapped within a circle of flames fuelled by holy oil was as good as mortal. And walking through the flames meant certain death.

 

“You’ve grown sloppy,” the demon taunted. “Did you really think Rubahlia would keep this to herself?”

 

Kristoph grit his teeth, refusing to answer.

 

The demon giggled again. “Thanks to you, Lucifer will soon reign.”

 

“What are you –“

 

Before he could finish, another demon jumped over the flames behind him and slashed his arm with an angel blade. Bluish-white light burst out of the cut and Kristoph dropped to his knees, letting out a tremendous scream.

 

\------

 

Klavier dropped the book he was pretending to read as a fiery pain seared his right arm. He slithered to the floor, bitting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Trying not to scream, he lifted his hand from where it clutched his upper arm, horrified to see blood spurting out of it. He clamped his hand back down on his arm and rushed to the bathroom. _Don’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’tpanic._ He near collapsed onto the basin. But when he went to turn on the tap with his bloodied hand, it was surprisingly clean. His reflection in the mirror showed no sign of injury. Incredulous, he glanced back down at his arm. There was no blood, though his arm still ached as if he had been stabbed. He let out a soft wail and sunk down onto the bathroom floor.

 

_I’m too beautiful and… angelic to go insane_ , he thought before blacking out. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such the long wait (I don't like writing during the semester)! I'm hoping to have this story wrapped up soon, before xmas if I'm lucky. Enjoy!

The pain was immense and for a moment Kristoph lost his vision. As he tried to stand up, the demon slashed his other arm and one of his thighs for good measure. The wounds, though not fatal, caused a lot of damage that effectively disabled him. Kristoph fell to his knees again, unable to move. He heard a giggle and the demon child teleported inside the circle. Getting a better look at the demon, Kristoph saw her eyes were completely white instead of black – a sign of her high rank.

 

“Aww, don’t tell me you don’t recognise me, Krissy.”

 

Kristoph gritted his teeth, seething. How could his perfect plan end up like this?

 

“Ahahaha, seems like you don’t,” the demon continued. “My name is Calisto, Lucifer’s _first_ demon.” She began laughing hysterically, bending forward and clutching her stomach. “Ahah – that face is just priceless – ahahaha!”

 

“How dare you mock me!” Kristoph spat, trying to get to his feet. The demon who attacked him shoved him back down and held an angel blade to his throat in warning.

 

Calisto wiped a tear from her eye. “You see, Rubahlia betrayed you from the start. She was helping me _all along_.” She took a step closer. Taking the angel blade from her crony, Calisto pointed the tip just under Kristoph’s chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Pffft. We needed – ahaha – an angel’s grace – pfff – as part of the spell to release Lucifer from Hell. But…” she dug the blade in deeper, “I see we’re getting two – pfff – for the price of one! Ahahahahahaha!” The blade shook from her laughter, piercing Kristoph’s neck even deeper. A blue light began seeping out at the point. Calisto held up a vial just underneath the blade to catch Kristoph and Klavier’s graces as it bleed out of the wound. “Now, if you’ll hold still–“

 

“ _AHHHHHHH!!!_ ”

 

“What was that?” Calisto yelled, spinning to face the flames.

 

“Angels!” another demon cried as black smoke shot into the air.

 

Calisto growled, moving away from Kristoph. “I’ll come back for you,” she said, teleporting out of the circle.

 

Calisto’s crony kept a firm hand on Kristoph’s shoulder. “Don’t even think of moving.” He pressed the blade into Kristoph’s neck, careful not to pierce the flesh any further. “We’re not done with you yet.”

 

* * *

 

Wrightiel grabbed the head of one demon and exorcised him back to hell. The demon’s scream alerted the rest of the group to his presence. They all spun around at once, some holding angel blades, others human weapons.

 

“Angels!” one of the demons cried out before being stabbed from behind by Lana.

 

It was just Lana, Wrightiel and a few low-level angels against at least twenty demons. Two demons charged towards Wrightiel at once. He quickly took out his angel blade and blocked a knife from slicing his shoulder. The other demon, having no weapons at all, swung to punch Wrightiel in the head, but the angel blocked the attack with a kick to the gut. The first demon came swinging again, Wrightiel parrying several attacks to his face and chest. A third demon approached loudly from behind and Wrightiel easily dispatched him. Pulling his blade out of the demon’s stomach, he continued to block the attacks of the first demon. The demon began to tire and Wrightiel took that opportunity to mount a counter attack. He slashed the demon’s arm then thrust the blade up into its neck. A yellow light sparked in the demon’s eyes and open mouth and the body slumped to the floor.

 

“Wrightiel, behind you!” A pair of demons wielding angel blades charged towards him. Wrightiel teleported out of trouble and re-emerged behind them both. Grabbing the back of their heads, he exorcised them back to hell.

 

The angels’ power soon overwhelmed the demons. Calisto and one of her cronies were the last survivors. Despite her disadvantage, she didn't look panicked.

 

“It’s over, demon,” Lana said. “Surrender the angel.”

 

“Pffff – ahahahahahahahaha! I wouldn't speak so soon.” Calisto’s grin grew even wider when a new demon arrived on the scene. His vessel was a beast of a man and Wrightiel could sense an immense power simmering within the demon. A few of the lower-lever angels took a cautious step backwards.

 

“Well, it looks like I arrived just in the nick of time,” the massive demon chuckled. “And we simply _can’t_ have you angels messing up our plan.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm and the three angels to Wrightiel’s left went flying. He tightened his grip on his angel blade. This demon was the biggest threat and had to be eliminated first. He glanced at Lana who gave him a small nod and they both teleported away.

 

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that! Let’s have a proper fight!”

 

Lana reappeared behind Calisto and Wrightiel behind the newest demon. Lana thrust her blade into Calisto’s back killing her instantly. Wrightiel wasn’t that lucky. His target was faster and had predicted the attack. One massive hand grabbed Wrightiel’s blade arm, the other the front of his shirt. Hoisting him off the ground, the demon looked disappointed.

 

“Now, now, that isn’t very fair, is it, Wright-o?” Wrightiel froze at the mention of his name. Just who was this demon? But before he could ponder further, the demon threw him towards the circle of flames. Wrightiel landed just before the fire, so close his coat was singed. He struggled back to his feet as the demon turned his attention to Lana.

 

“And Lana, so good to finally meet you.” Lana, having just taken out the last of Calisto’s cronies, lowered her stance and prepared to attack. “Ohoho, not one for talking, are we? Fair enough…” With the demon distracted by Lana, Wrightiel had time to plan his next move. A few other angels made a move, but Gant casually sweeped them away again. Wrightiel rushed forward, thinking this to be the most opportune moment.

 

Too slow again.

 

The demon spun around and grabbed him just like before. “Really, now. That’s no way to fi-“

 

The demons eyes opened comically wide. He dropped Wrightiel to the ground and yellow light gushed out of his mouth. His massive body crumpled in a heap on the floor. Lana stood behind him, angel blade covered in blood.

 

“Good work,” Wrightiel said, still in shock.

Lana straightened up and shrugged. “I just waited for the perfect opportunity…”

 

Wrightiel stood and dusted off his trench coat.

 

“Uh, sir…” one of the lower-levels began, “we have a problem.”

 

The angel pointed to where the circle of flames should have been, but sometime during the fray they’d been put out and Kristoph had escaped.

 

_Damnit!_

 

“What about the girl?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Maya Fey, the Prophet!”

 

Lana quickly scanned the abandoned factory before them. Her shoulders sagged.

 

“She’s gone.”


End file.
